History Aboriginal Queensland

Ragapadmi and the First Leper: A Historiography of Leprosy Transmission in Madura, Indonesia Dimas Iqbal Romadhon Chair of the Supervisory Committee: Professor Laurie Jo Sears History Department This thesis explores the interconnections between oral traditions and global health issues around leprosy. A folktale from Madura Island, Indonesia, telling about a princess named Ragapadmi who was expelled from her palace due to suffering leprosy, is the main focus in this study. The area studied, Madura Island, Indonesia, is known as one of the highest leprosy endemic areas in the world, which places Indonesia in the third place of international leprosy rankings in 2015. In this thesis, I study the movement of the Ragapadmi story from an oral tradition, which contains selected memories from the past time in Madura, to documented publications that were used by the Dutch administrators as a part of health propaganda to natives’ unique perceptions regarding leprosy which gives a stigma-free e...

A children's book based on recollections of the Noosa region (Queensland) during the 1870s, and how this led to the creation of Australia's first 'national costume' (and First Nations) souvenir dolls. Piccanninie's Yabba Yabba is a late 1920s children's historical novel about early Noosa. It was lost until very recently rediscovered. The following is the extended author's version of The Midgley Dolls: Telling Tales of Noosa

By the time that Europeans became acquainted with the bunya, the gum tree was already well established as the iconic Australian tree. The genus Eucalyptus, with all its locally specific variants, was both distinctive to the continent and widely dispersed throughout it. In contrast, the bunya tree (classified as Araucaria bidwillii in 1843) grew in a small area of what is now South-East Queensland and was seen by few Europeans before the 1840s, when Moreton Bay was opened to free settlement. The physical distinctiveness of the bunya tree, and stories of the large gatherings which accompanied the triennial harvesting of its nut, aroused the curiosity of early European explorers and settlers, and in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries the bunya tree achieved a special status in local civic culture. Although heavy logging had largely destroyed the great bunya forests, the tree was planted extensively in school grounds, around war memorials and in long avenues in parks.

In April 1834 the Hobart Town Courier published ‘Some Remarks On the Roots and Other Indigenous Esculents of Van Diemen's Land’.  I think I can safely claim this as the first published comprehensive
survey of edible native plants in the colonies (which would become Australia), albeit limited to Van Diemen’s Land.  It was one of 11 such articles published in the press between 1834 and 1934.

Why were the surveys written? How did the authors get their knowledge of which plants were edible? What did the surveys say about how to cook with them? Answering these questions forms the first part of this article.

A fundamental idea about leprosy is that it is different from all diseases. One fact is held responsible for setting leprosy apart, is the social stigma connected with the disease. " Probably no disease/' noted the Honorary American Chairman, World Lepro " causes such a reaction in the community and so much distress to and their families." 1 Efforts to destigmatize leprosy call for a theory or some rationale that will explain what there is about the disease that has stigmatized it. The theory or explanation must be a socially acceptable one, have both emotional and cognitive appeal, cover the ground sufficiently well, and provide a viable framework that will effectively replace negative attitudes with more positive ones. Whether the theory is true or not is, in some instances, less important than its capacity for being accepted. Over the years a leprosy destigmatization theory has developed. All leprosy workers and many patients are thoroughly familiar with it. Almost without exception it plays a part in all printed or verbal presentations to the public by patients and leprosy representatives. It appears in the pages of The Star, a bimonthly journal published by the patients at the USPS hospital, Carville, Louisiana-the only leprosarium in the continental United States-and in the literature distributed to the public by most agencies involved in leprosy work. It is not, however, completely congruent with modern scientific knowledge.

The Australian nationalist metanarrative performed "cultural apartheid" over female literary production. Excluded from official discourse and dominant literary genres, women resorted to those available in an attempt to formulate their subjectivity. Hence, their narratives became a means of talking back. Consequently, Rosa Campbell Praed's My Australian Girlhood (1902) demonstrates characteristics of autobiography, travel literature and adventure narrative, and at the same time transgresses the said genres in both their intent as well as their structural characteristics. Additionally, travelling within the colonial context, Praed inevitably participates in the discourses of imperialism, which she is, however, found rupturing as she criticises British racial policy in Australia, thus revealing her writing as double-voiced. As a female colonial writer writing within a masculine realist literary tradition, Praed was othered by contemporary critics who either devalued her writing, or altogether dismissed it as un-Australian, ignoring numerous instances wherein she contributes to the formulation of an 1890s identity. Therefore, to read Praed's text means to be aware of this historically and culturally specific context.

The Australian nationalist metanarrative performed "cultural apartheid" over female literary production. Excluded from official discourse and dominant literary genres, women resorted to those available in an attempt to formulate their subjectivity. Hence, their narratives became a means of talking back. Consequently, Rosa Campbell Praed's My Australian Girlhood (1902) demonstrates characteristics of autobiography, travel literature and adventure narrative, and at the same time transgresses the said genres in both their intent as well as their structural characteristics. Additionally, travelling within the colonial context, Praed inevitably participates in the discourses of imperialism, which she is, however, found rupturing as she criticises British racial policy in Australia, thus revealing her writing as double-voiced. As a female colonial writer writing within a masculine realist literary tradition, Praed was othered by contemporary critics who either devalued her writing, or altogether dismissed it as un-Australian, ignoring numerous instances wherein she contributes to the formulation of an 1890s identity. Therefore, to read Praed's text means to be aware of this historically and culturally specific context.

Leprosy was always viewed with aborrhence requiring segregation of the unfortunate sufferers. The policy of segregation in dedicated leprosaria, initially introduced during the Medieval Period, was re-adopted during the late 19 th century and persisted well into the 20 th century. The management of lepers in Malta followed similar principles as elsewhere.

Toowoomba, a city in southeastern inland Queensland, Australia, is built on swamps. The swamps have been central to the history of this city. From the midnineteenth century, European colonists sought to control and contain them as a source of disease and damaging floods while also being reliant on their aquifers for water supply. This chapter takes up one part of this history, examining the ways in which animals were entangled in colonists' relationships with the swamps as a source of disease. The first section provides background on the town being built on the swamps and engages with European colonists' views of the swamps as a changeable space and source of disease from 1840 to 1900. A range of interacting factors, pathogens, and organisms, including animals but also aquifers, vegetation, and bacteria, shaped colonists' views of the swamps and of the spread of disease in the period, the latter underpinning their efforts to control the swamps, including through drainage works. The second section focuses on a particular kind of animal, mosquitoes, examining the eradication campaigns conducted from 1900 to 1940. These insects were targeted as potential vectors of disease and underpinned further attempts to control the swamps. At the same time, the lives of mosquitoes were shaped by the actions of people in Toowoomba, who had co-created ideal breeding grounds in the swamps and then sought to eradicate these insects from the town. 1 Through this history, the persistence of initially British-led colonial imperatives to control the swamps as a source of disease and the entanglement of animals within these becomes evident. Across these periods, dominant Western scientific understandings of the relationships between animals and human disease changed significantly, from miasma to germ theory to mosquito-borne diseases. In charting these changes, this chapter draws out the roles and agency of a variety of domesticated animals and their dead bodies, and then the mosquitoes, all present in abundance in the swamps. By focusing on the swamps, this chapter also aims to show the value of situating human-animal relationships within wider sets of shifting relationships in order to more fully examine the co-creation of places by animals. The chapter draws on archival and newspaper sources and attempts to highlight evidence of non-human animal agencies within them. These sources represent particular human concerns, and colonial ideologies and power relationships

A short three-page paper in reflection of particular sessions at the Australian Historical Association on the 50th anniversary (July 2023). The point being made that councils, states, and all kinds of governances do not 1) speak out, 2) hear, and 3) understand.

This book is the only publication available which covers the history of the Bêche-de-mer industry in Queensland waters from 1859 to 1901. It covers the extensive use of Australian Aboriginals in the industry together with the difficulties which arose in employing an indigenous workforce. ISBN: 9781922815415

This paper focuses on a Christian model of leprosy care overseen by Catholic nuns in Quy Hòa, a leprosarium in South Central Vietnam, from 1929-when the leper colony was established-until 1975, when the American-backed Southern regime collapsed and all of Quy Hòa's foreign nuns were forced to leave. Drawing on recollections of elderly residents of the former leprosy colony, it describes the close and loving attention that the nuns offered to inmates, an attentiveness that was informed by the nuns' ethic of Christian sacrifice. The nuns at Quy Hòa successfully built a quasi parent-child relationship with leprosy-afflicted inmates. Their striking devotion to the 'lepers' resembles substitute motherhood. However, these recollections of that era also shed critical light on an approach to leprosy care that was premised on hierarchy, strictly enforced segregation from the wider community and pronounced paternalism towards all those who came under the nuns' rule of care.

Along with her sisters, brothers and mothers, Nyapuru advocated to set up the remote Wulungarra Community School and, through her work, contributed to the passing on of knowledge of the land, law and culture to future generations. She passed away in August 2015. Extracts from 'Seeing Country' are located throughout the document. WARNING: This document may contain images and names of people who have sadly passed away.

Along with her sisters, brothers and mothers, Nyapuru advocated to set up the remote Wulungarra Community School and, through her work, contributed to the passing on of knowledge of the land, law and culture to future generations. She passed away in August 2015. Extracts from 'Seeing Country' are located throughout the document. WARNING: This document may contain images and names of people who have sadly passed away.

The German naturalist-collector Amalie Dietrich (1821-1891) worked in Queensland from 1863 to 1872, assembling for the Museum Godeffroy of Hamburg large collections of botanical, zoological, ethnographic and anthropological specimens. Her work has remain ed relatively unknown in Australia, however, since the collections were shipped to Germany and most of the relevant literature is in German.1 One small but interesting part of her ethnographic collections is a set of very early photo graphs of Queensland Aborigines. The first reference to these photographs appeared in Feb ruary 1874, in the Museum Godeffroy Catalog V, where an advertisement for 'Duplicates trom the Ethnographic Collection' offered a complete set of 150 photographs, including 'Copies of photographs of Aborigines of NorthEast Australia (Colon. Queensland)', obtain able in either carte-de-visite or cabinet format. Details of the subject matter and provenance of the Museum Godeffroy photographs were not available until the subsequent publication in 1880 of the Verzeichniss der Photogra phien des Museum Godeffroy welche Australien und die Sudsee betreffen2 (Inventory of photographs o f the Museum Godeffroy in respect of Australia and the Pacific), in which each photograph was listed and the subject matter described individually. The Australian (i.e. Queensland) group was quite small, comprising only nineteen photographs fifteen from Brisbane and four from Rockhampton (see Table 1). This rare publication is apparently a preprint, issued under separate cover, of the relevant section of the book Die ethnographischanthropologische Abtheilung des Museum Godeffroy in Hamburg, which appeared in the following year and gave a complete list and description of every item in these collections.3 The firm ot J.C. Godeffroy & Sohn was declared bankrupt in December 1879 and Johann Cesar VI Godeffroy died in 1883. Negotiations were entered into with the heirs in an attempt to retain the Museum Godeffroy collections in Hamburg. The question of cost as well as associated stipulations, led to difficulties and delays, the Museum Godeffroy building was about to be demolished, and talks foundered, until in 1885 the Leipzig Museum fur Völker kunde purchased the whole ethnographic collection from its owner, Dr Wilhelm Godeffroy ot Berlin, for the sum of 95 000 marks.4 The initial research into Amalie Dietrich' s Australian collections Humanities Scholarship o f the National Museum o f Victoria. was carried out under the Science 1 2 Sumner, MS. Museum Godeffroy, 1880:3-4, 'Australien. Colonie:Queensland'. The only known zeichmss is held by the Museum für Völkerkunde in Hamburg. copy o f this Ver

The PRESIDENT took the chair at 4 o'clock. LEPROSY BIL "L. The HoN. W. F. TAYLOR said: Hon. gentlemen,-! beg to move that this Order of the Day be postponed till after the consideration of Order of the Day No. 2. The HoN. W. H. WILSON: I have no objection. Question put and passed, Indecent Advertisements Bill.

White Australians once confidently-if regretfully-believed that the Aboriginal people were doomed to extinction. In this challenging analysis Russell McGregor explores the origins and the gradual demise of the 'doomed race' theory, which was unquestioned in nineteenth-century European thinking and remained uncontested until the 1930s. White perceptions had been shaped by Enlightenment ideas about progress, Darwin's new theories on the survival of the fittest, and other European philosophical concepts. These ideas exerted a powerful influence and shaped white Australian attitudes to, and policies for, Aboriginal people.

is a story of social mobility in colonial Queensland between 1863, during the colony's infancy, and its metamorphosis into a state in the Commonwealth of Australia in 1901. It depicts the family's rise in status and wealth from struggling middle-class origins to membership of Queensland's social elite. Their story exemplifies the personal attributes and cultural background necessary to exploit opportunities for success within the parameters of the political, economic and social development of the colony. Walter Cunningham Hume arrived in Queensland from England in January 1863. His mother, Elizabeth Hume, his three sisters, Marion, Jenny and Elizabeth, and his youngest brother, Washington, followed him later that year.* In 1865 he proposed to Anna Kate Fowler, who, having accepted, arrived in September 1866. Walter and Katie married two weeks later in Brisbane and over the course of their life in Queensland produced eight children of whom three survived to adulthood. They resided at Drayton, Stanthorpe, Gowrie, Toowoomba and Brisbane before retiring to Britain in March 1901. From his position as a trainee surveyor in 1863, Walter rose to be Assistant Mineral Lands Commissioner at Stanthorpe in July 1872; then Mineral Lands Commissioner, Stanthorpe from December 1872 to May 1875; and Land Commissioner and District Surveyor for the Darling Downs from 1875 to 1885. Walter was then appointed Under-Secretary of the Lands Department from 1885. At the time of his retirement in March 1901 Walter was one of the colony's three Land Court judges, having held that position for three years. Walter Hume was born on 31 January 1839, the eldest of six children. His father, Alexander 2 Hume, was a Scottish poet and lyricist. Walter was probably educated by his mother 3 Elizabeth (nee Scott) who established a school in London. After his father's death in May 1851, Walter joined the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company (P & O) as a *This paper is based on the conclusions contained in Hilary Davies, 'Middle-class social mobility in colonial Queensland: the case study of the Hume family', PhD thesis.

Writing in 1888, Charles F Maxwell observed that Vincent Dowling: Although exposed to frequent attacks from the blacks, he escaped without hurt, but not without some close shaves, as on one occasion he had a spear driven through his hat; and on another a boomerang thrown by a wild man cut open the ribs of the mare he was riding. Yet he did not retaliate, and not until 1865, when his brother John was murdered by the blacks, did he ever shed a drop of blackfellow's blood. 1

This thesis examines the role of labour in the history of the Cape Bedford Aboriginal community, from its establishment in 1886 to 1950. It focuses on period around the Second World War when the community was evacuated south to the government reserve at Woorabinda. This community's history offers a lens through which to view the application of Queensland's protectionist and wartime legislations. The Cape Bedford community's absorption into the Manpower Directorate during the Second World War, after they were removed to Woorabinda, was among the most extreme examples of government control over Indigenous labour. This study is the first work to clearly outline the extent of collaboration between the Queensland state government and Aboriginal settlements with the Manpower Directorate. More broadly, the true extent of the Aboriginal workforce-large and well organised-is being revealed. This thesis thus adds significantly to the growing literature demonstrating the significant contribution of Aboriginal workers to Queensland's economy. Furthermore, it argues that 'work' was integral to the relationships formed between Aboriginal people and the white community. This is done through examination of labour I am deeply indebted to my wonderful supervisors, Jane Carey, Penelope Edmonds and Patricia Grimshaw for their patience, encouragement and wonderful advice. I am also incredibly grateful to Bruce Rigsby, who allowed me to sift through his decades-worth of anthropological research on the Cape Bedford community and offered feedback. Rosalind Kidd also assisted with copies of documents that she had sighted in the archives, thoughtful advice and words of encouragement. One of the missionaries at Cape Bedford, Ivan Roennfeldt, has also been generous with his time, talking to me about his experiences with the community. I thank also the archivists at Queensland State Archives, particularly the Department of Communities for their assistance on my research trips, and the National Archives of Australia, Victorian Branch. My gratitude extends to School of Historical Studies which funded one of the research trips and offered copious opportunities to develop my knowledge and experience. Finally, I must acknowledge the assistance of my friends, Constance Moore, Mario Bernardi and Michelle Deshong, and my boyfriend James Barry, who provided valuable feedback on early drafts of my work. I truly owe my parents for all that they have tolerated and the support that they have given throughout my studies. Chapter Two: The Mission's Evacuation to Woorabinda 46-63. Chapter Three: From War's End until the Return to Cape Bedford in 1950 64-78. Conclusion 79-82. Bibliography 83-95.

The work of colonial artists has provided precious insights into the nature of the Australian landscape as it was at the time immediately following white settlement. The works of Glover, Lewin and von Guérard, for example, have been employed by historical geographers and have fuelled some fascinating debates about the nature of the landscape as it was under Aboriginal management. Of course, the work of some of these artists forms more faithful historical documentation than that of others. The stylised works of J.S. Lycett, the emancipated convict turned painter, are almost certainly unreliable as accurate landscape documentation, as his criminal conviction for forgery may suggest (Plate 1). It is likely that Lycett never visited some of the locations he painted and much of his work was probably commissioned as immigration propaganda, intended to placate the fears of the Britons equivocating about a move to the awesome and intimidating southern land.

As the seasons change, public and private gardens become a riot of colour. Winter shows the scarlet flags of poinsettia – Brisbane's emblem, which, if really a Mexican beauty, has made itself very much at home. The lavender glow of jacaranda and the gold of laburnum, the green umbrella of poinciana crowned with gleaming scarlet, the massed magnificence of magenta bougainvillea, the creamy blossoms and heavy tropical scent of frangipani filling the air with sweetness, the glare of cannas, the pink and white of bauhinia, the old-gold feathers of silky oak and the red and green of hibiscus – these are but a few of the array of colours.C. C. D. BrammallBrisbane has been relentlessly cleared since the first British soldiers and convicts set up at Redcliffe and then moved to the site we know as Brisbane today. As in other Australian colonies the new settlers were keen to grow crops and to exploit the timber both as a building material and later as a rich source of export income. While...

This article presents an account of the events organised in Sydney by the National Aborigines Day Observance Committee (NADOC) in its first decade, 1957-67. While committees operated in other states, the NADOC in New South Wales was the most prominent in those years. 1 The significance of NADOC, or NAIDOC as it is has been known since the 1970s, is evident in the organisation's survival. It has developed into Australia's largest annual celebration of the 'history, culture and achievements of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples'. 2 Yet there exists to date only a brief historical account of its development. 3 NADOC was one of a number of organisations active in mid-twentieth-century Australia, involving Aboriginal and white Australians. As a church-based organisation with a close relationship to government, NADOC emerged alongside the Aboriginal-Australian Fellowship (AAF), founded by Faith Bandler and Pearl Gibbs in 1956, and the Federal Council for Aboriginal Advancement (FCAA), founded in 1958. 4 Like the Indigenous members of the FCAA, many of the Indigenous participants in the NADOC events, we argue, understood themselves as 'bearers of collective rights'. 5 They expressed these rights in discourse addressed to white Australians. They also drew on an artistic repertoire of poetry, music, storytelling and performance. In his history of the Australian Aboriginal Progressive Association (AAPA), founded in the 1920s, John Maynard emphasises the skills of Aboriginal activists in oratory 1

This article is the guest editors’ introduction to a special volume of Pacific Historical Review entitled “Protection: Global Genealogies, Local Practices.” Guest editors Christina Twomey and Katherine Ellinghaus argue that the global discourse of protection had a strong presence beyond British humanitarian circles and a longer chronological and larger geographical reach than historians have previously noted. Articles in the special volume include Christina Twomey’s examination of protection as a concept with its origins in European, rather than British, colonialism, Trevor Burnard’s study of the Protectors of slaves in Berbice in the early to mid-nineteenth century, Goolam Vahed’s analysis of the Protectors appointed to lobby on behalf of immigrant Indian indentured labourers in late nineteenth century Natal, Rachel Standfield’s investigation of the use of language in Protectorates in Australia and New Zealand in the 1840s, Amanda Nettelbeck’s exploration of the concept of Aborigin...

Even among people who do not know the book, most of those who ever heard about it do know that the book is about the position of black slaves in the US. (...)
"Another reason why I am so enthusiastic about this book is Stowe's aforementioned, mercilessly analytical approach. She fully sympathises with the horrific fate of the slaves -that is the thrust of the book as a whole, expressed in hundreds of poignant turns of phrase- but she does not present it as if all slaves were engaged in some heroic struggle against their oppressors."

The passage of Australia’s Modern Slavery Act 2018 received bipartisan support and was heralded within both Houses of Parliament as a significant step towards addressing Australia’s complicity in modern slavery. Political discourse surrounding the legislation, however, exhibits a profound and disconcerting dehistoricisation, emphasising particularities of global supply chains and contemporary transnational capitalism. Australia’s own histories of slavery, slaverylike conditions and unfree labour are overwhelmingly absent from these narratives, which are framed instead by occasional references to the transatlantic slave trade. Attending particularly to histories of coerced Pacific labour within Australia, we analyse these absences as reflective of deeply rooted fissures of memory and power within Australia’s national imaginaries, and of the exercise of colonial power both within the settler state and in its entanglements with the region. Through reference to two threads of Pacific labour history in Australia—the struggle for recognition of the 19th-century Pacific labour trade, and the labour patterns of 20th-century Papuan and New Guinean domestic workers—we argue for an alternate genealogy of modern slavery, one that re-centres attention to race and coloniality, and attends more fully to the presence of the past in the exploitations of the present.

Drought in the earliest years of the twentieth century stimulated much discussion in Brisbane about the quality of the water supplied to the rapidly growing city. One of the various schemes developed by the Board of Waterworks to obtain better water was the Stradbroke Island Scheme. Although not adopted, its consideration required the close examination of the island’s topographic and hydrological features, including an exhaustive survey of the island by Herbert W. Lethem, completed early in 1903. His detailed map and report, together with reports by others such as Board engineers H. G. Foster-Barham (1901) and J. Kemp (1906), and American expert A. Hazen (1907), provide a signifi cant body of scientifi c knowledge of Stradbroke Island. These records portray the island long before the beginning of mineral sand mining (1940s) and municipal water extraction (1990s). This paper is an historical account of the Stradbroke Island Scheme and an assessment of its legacy.

Conrad Martens visited the Darling Downs during the summer of 1851–52, where a small group of squatting families played a crucial part in the success of his journey. In the short term, they provided him with hospitality as he moved from property to property; in the longer term, he hoped, they would become the main purchasers of his paintings. In this article I shall give a brief description of the Darling Downs pastoral elite, and look at the personal connections that existed between Martens and many of these people: connections that explain why Martens was received so hospitably during his travels, and why he had a reasonable expectation that they would patronize his work. In addition, though, there were also structural reasons relating to the changing economic and social climate of the early 1850s that help explain why these families subsequently bought his paintings.

This is the fully referenced version of material submitted by the author for Brisbane History West (ed), Brisbane Spreads West: A Local History 1840-1901(St Lucia: Brisbane History West, 2017). It details the Indigenous resources, site and major events in the Indigenous history of the western suburbs of what is now Brisbane (Queensland, Australia).

Early Life Jandamarra was born in 1873. He and his mother go to Lennard River. Then he started to work for William Lukin. He was strong, intelligent, and good at just about everything. 'He learnt quicky the skills of a stockman and station hand. Lukin was very pleased with him'(p15). Jim Crowe taught Jandamarra all those valuabkle stockman's skills-shearing, riding, fencing, building saddlery, stosck handling-and one other: how to use fireams. Soon he could shot very well 'by th time he left Lennard river at he age of 15, Jandamarra was probably the best shot in the Kimberley' Incidents while working with Richardson In 1894, he was employed by western Australian police to serve as a native tracker. At this time, natives were not used in this role, but they made an exception for him. While there, he became friends with Bill Richardson. The two had a real connection primarily because they were both stockmen in their youth. As the Aborigine raids on settlers' lands increased, Jandamarra agreed to help colonizers hunt down-and even kill-his own people because of his friendship with Richardson. During one run-in with warriors from the Bunuba, Jandamarra saved Richardson's life during the attack. His uncle informed him that white settlers were planning to invade Bunuba territory. The newly established band of freedom fighters staged a counter attack. On November 10, 1894, Jandamarra and some of his followers attacked five white men who were driving cattle to set up a new farm in the heart of Bunuba land. They killed two of them and took the leftover guns and ammunition.

Forced relocations, known as removals, affected every Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander community in Queensland in the 19th and 20th century. Despite the island location of many missions and stations, the watercraft engaged in removals are often implicit in the historical archives. Targeted research of these vessels offers insights into removals beyond origin and destination. The study of the maritime transport of removals enriches the biographies of the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples involved by contextualizing human experiences beyond a series of place names. It also magnifies the biographies of the vessels plying the Queensland coast during this time.

This book is a powerful remembrance of Myall Creek and of all that is reprehensible about the colonisation of Australia and the buried memories and denial of the Frontier Wars. Aboriginal people across Australia suffered much trauma, and now we know of the atrocities from the invasion and the subsequent settlement of their lands, lands they did not give up lightly. The editors say in their introduction that the Myall Creek massacre of innocent Aboriginal old men, women and children 'has become the most well-known symbol of the Australian frontier wars'. What is particularly poignant in this book is the detailed hidden history that has been uncovered by intrepid historians, to provide us with the full story and history of the denial, of the injustices, and of the feelings of people of the time on both sides of the contest, those who wanted to hide it and those who came to understand its emotional impact on the colony. The editors have brought together writers of both cultures, Indigenous and settler, presenting imagery, artistic expression (the colonial poet Eliza Hamilton Dunlop), and the memories of both cultures, passed on through the generations. Historians and legal experts have given us a deeply felt picture of the horror that spreads to all of us from the acts that occurred. The stories in the book examine how the ringleader of this horrific massacre managed, through the colonial culture of the time and his own status as a free man and settler, to escape punishment for his planning and execution of the massacre. Yet, after Myall Creek, white men were brought to justice by their peers and the legal system that ensured at least some of them were punished. Many in similar events across the country were not brought to justice. The whisperings of our people remember these events across the generational divide. The trauma of these events, the covering-up by authorities, the lack of justice for Aboriginal people, and the deep depression of knowing that no-one cared has been passed on to each generation as we share and talk of these stories. In

The 1838 Myall Creek Massacre is remembered for the brutality of the crime committed by white settlers against innocent Aboriginal men, women and children, but also because eleven of the twelve assassins were arrested and brought to trial. Amid tremendous controversy, seven were hanged. Myall Creek was not the last time the colonial administration sought to apply the law equally to Aboriginal people and settlers, but it was the last time perpetrators of a massacre were convicted and hanged. Marking the 180th anniversary of the massacre, this book brings together leading writers, historians and artists to explore the significance of one of the most horrifying events of Australian colonialism. Thoughtful and fearless, it challenges us to look at our history without flinching as an act of remembrance and reconciliation.